29 March 2010


Excursus 3/29

the moment was blind
and the city was a jellyfish
I told you I was floating
Your eyes were closed

What I never said
That I was sitting on the rocks
and you were drifting away
Never really looking at me

This is not confession

I hold hands to face and look between fingers
See hidden ghosts
In a box in some closet you turn to dust

You are dried ivy tendrils
God imaging himself into existence

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